Song Memes Aplenty
by Aconitum-Napellus
Summary: Some attempts at the iPod shuffle song meme. I'll leave the status as incomplete, since who knows when I might make more...
1. Song Meme 1

ST:TOS Writing Meme pinched from .com

1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.

Star Trek TOS

2. Turn on your music player and set it to "shuffle".

3. Write a drabble related to each song that plays. You only have the timeframe of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it's over. No lingering afterwards!

4. Do ten of these, and post them!

---

Millennium – Robbie Williams (I've Been Expecting You)

'Ah, Captain.' Spock nodded formally. Everything about him was formal. 'You are ready for the – celebrations?'

Kirk nodded, in a much more relaxed fashion. 'Fireworks, feasting, great music – sure I'm ready, Spock. You don't sound too happy about it, though?'

Spock's eyebrow rose. 'I – do not believe I understand the point of celebrating a 'millennium' – a nano-second a time, relevant only to a particular section of society's calendar, changing from three thousand nine hundred ninety nine to four thousand. Why should this merit the explosion of gunpowder?'

'Because it's _*fun*_, Spock. It's a party. People like parties.'

Spock exhaled. 'Must *_I*_ like parties? After all, I have no association with the Malindrians, or their deities.'

Kirk grinned. 'Yes, Spock. It's an order. And you *_will*_ wear a party hat.'

Happy Jack – The Who (Then & Now) (ach, that was only two minutes long!!!)

'Ah, Jack. May I call you Jack, Mr Spock?'

Spock looked sideways at the woman who was draped against his shoulder, her head uncomfortably close to him.

'My name is not Jack,' he complained.

'Oh, but I *_like*_ Jack,' she giggled, touching a fingertip to his ear. 'Jack's so – nice. So happy. Be happy, Mr Spock!'

'I believe, Miss Chapel, that you are quite happy enough for both of us,' Spock said in a controlled voice. 'You are – quite prodigiously drunk.'

Ticket To Lie – Texas (White on Blonde) (made more difficult by kittens on the keyboard, and then fast-forwarding the track with their paws!)

'So, you don't have emotions at all, Spock?' McCoy asked. 'Nothing ticking over there in that oddly shaped little heart?'

'I have no emotions that currently trouble me,' Spock said. *_Apart from my concern over the health of my father. Apart from the consideration that I am unbonded, and quite alone. Apart from the fact that there is one on this ship who loves me, whose love I constantly deny._*

'Ah, nothing,' McCoy sighed. He took another sip of his brandy, and tapped a finger at Spock's chest, just over where his heart lay. 'Funny. Doesn't sound hollow, does it? How about the fact that Jim's currently M.I.A.?'

Spock sighed.

Dile Kolay – Ajda Pekkan (The Rough Guide to the Music of Turkey)

'Oh, what a beautiful city!'

Spock turned impassively to Lieutenant Uhura. 'It is simply a city, Lieutenant,' he said flatly. 'It does, perhaps, resemble certain traditional cities of Vulcan – but it is, simply, a city, with all the attendant problems.'

'There are cities on Vulcan that look like Dile Kolay?' Uhura asked wonderingly, choosing to ignore Spock's pessimistic dismissal of her statement. 'It must be a beautiful place, Mr Spock.'

Spock's gaze turned momentarily inward as he recalled the exotic skyline of Shi'Nala, the setting sun burning red on iridescent metal domes, the natural stone cobbles seeming to incandesce and melt in the light. Vulcan was, indeed beautiful. In his mind he stood there as a sixteen year old, gangly, ill-formed, uncertain, clutching his lyre under his arm, waging an internal war over whether to enter to building before him and compete against ranks of pure-bred Vulcan musicians, or not.

But he had won. He – had won. And Vulcan was, indeed, beautiful.

Savoy Blues – Louis Armstrong (The Classic Jazz Collection)

'I assure you, Lieutenant, that it is quite impossible to recreate early twentieth century jazz on a Vulcan lyre,' Spock said smoothly.

Lieutenant Uhura's dark eyes met with Christine Chapel's blue ones, sparkling mischievously.

'Are you – afraid, Mr Spock?' she asked in her most seductive voice. 'I would never believe that a Vulcan would be afraid of trying something new!'

Spock's eyebrow rose. 'I do not understand how you can extrapolate a reaction of fear from my response, Lieutenant,' he said.

'Sure sounds like it to me,' Uhura smiled. 'Doesn't it, Chris?'

Nurse Chapel faltered for a moment, smiling briefly, saying, 'Oh – er – ' Then she looked down, and up again, and seemed to have collected her courage in that moment. 'It does sound like it, Ny. Would you – play it for me, Mr Spock?'

Spock found himself faltering.

Hocus Pocum – Jools Holland and his Rhythm and Blues Orchestra (Sunset Over London) (26 seconds long!!!)

'Hocus _*pocum_*, Mr Spock?' McCoy asked him incredulously. 'I've heard you accuse me of using beads and rattles, but never hocus _*pocum_*! Where _*do_* you get your cultural references?'

Country Life – The Watersons (The Rough Guide To English Roots Music)

'Ah, this is the life,' McCoy said happily, leaning against a tall, shady tree, sipping at an iced, alcoholic drink.

'The rustle of wind in the wheat,' Kirk nodded dreamily. 'Sunshine through leaves. A bird or two calling in the distance.'

Spock stared at the pair. They spent their lives in the hermetically sealed environment of a starship. Kirk professed the _Enterprise_ to be his first love. And yet he could demonstrate such irrational nostalgia for a field of grain. Humans were, truly, illogical.

Strange Boat – The Waterboys (Fisherman's Blues)

It was dark all about.

All Spock could see was a few bare inches of wooden plank around him. He could hear the creaking of the ship, the lapping of the water against the hull. He had absolutely no idea how he had come to find himself here, lying prone on the floor of an anonymous boat, naked, and tied tightly by ropes. He was cold – almost too cold to struggle against the bonds. He did not know what he might discover if he escaped. He was not fond of swimming, and if the water temperature reflected the air temperature he imagined it might be quite dangerous to try. All he could do was lie here, on the rough wooden planking, in the enveloping darkness, and wait for what may come…

Deborah's Theme – Enrico Morricone (The Classical Chill Out Album)

'Ensign Deborah Montana,' Spock said to himself in an iron tone. 'Again.'

He had seen the name flash up on his alert sheet far too often this month. The Ensign was new to the ship. So far she had managed to readjust the sensors, almost to the point of causing the _Enterprise_ to impact with a star, break two replicators in rec room three, accidentally fire off a phaser in the weapons bay, and kill fifteen experimental tribbles in a minor lab explosion. Those were only her major offences. She had managed to tote up at least two marks against herself a day so far.

'I wonder,' Spock continued to himself, 'What Ensign Montana has managed to break, dismantle or kill this time.'

He touched the screen where her name sat, opening up the corresponding information.

His face, always blank, became a little more unreadable as he read.

_*Ensign Deborah Montana. Killed in action, defending a fellow officer. Recommendation for highest bravery award. Please familiarise with case, and inform family._*

Junk [Take] – The Beatles (Beatles Anthology 3)

'A garbage scow! Would ye believe that, Mr Spock? A _*garbage_* scow.'

Spock sighed almost imperceptibly. Scott had told him that piece of information sixteen times now. The frequency of repetition increased with each whiskey that he consumed.

'Yes, Mr Scott,' he said patiently. 'I do, indeed, believe that the Klingon said such a thing. I also believe that he was attempting to rile your worse nature. He appears to have succeeded.'

'Aye, well,' Scott muttered. 'It wasnae so much that, Mr Spock. But when they said the ship should be – '

'Hauled away as garbage,' Spock nodded. 'Yes, Mr Scott. I know. You have my greatest condolences on the matter. But I believe that it is time that you retire to your quarters.'


	2. Song Meme 2 SpockChapel

1. Girlfriend – Alicia Keys, Songs in A Minor (god save me, why? Why do I own this?)

'Spock, have you got a *_girlfriend*_?' McCoy asked with the biggest smile Kirk had ever seen on his face.

Spock all but blushed.

'Doctor, what am I to understand by your question? I do count female personnel amongst my friends – Lieutenant Uhura, for example.'

'Oh no, Spock,' McCoy grinned. 'I mean a *_girl*_friend. Lover. Sexual partner. Don't be coy now.'

Spock took a step backwards.

'On what do you base your assumption, Doctor?'

McCoy reached out with a handkerchief to touch it briefly to Spock's cheek.

'Exhibit A,' he said, presenting the corner of the cloth to the Vulcan. It was clearly marked with a pale pink stain. 'Lipstick, on your cheek. And I'm sure I recognise that shade. In fact, I'm sure that I've seen Nurse – '

'Doctor,' Spock snapped abruptly. 'Cease.'

2. Universo Ao Meu Redor – Marisa Monte (do I even understand that title? No.)

'The world is full of mewing cats,' Christine muttered. 'No. Scratch that. The entire universe is full of mewing cats.'

'I – beg your pardon, Nurse?' Spock asked, turning to the woman.

'Oh!' she said in surprise, colouring slightly as she saw who was standing behind her. 'Just – er – just a metaphor, that's all,' she said.

'I was hoping that was the case,' Spock said with a raised eyebrow. 'Else I would have suspected that you were prey to hallucinations. May I enquire as to your meaning?'

'Oh, er – just some – workplace bullying, I guess,' she said awkwardly. 'Nothing I can't handle.'

Spock was immediately on the offensive. 'Who?' he asked swiftly. 'And what is the nature of this bullying?'

'Oh, well, not really bullying,' she murmured. 'Just – some people who think you spend – well – more time with me than is necessary. That's all…'

3. Four Studies – Simon Rattle, Stravinsky, the Firebird.

'Have you completed the third experiment?' Spock asked, leaning close in towards the nurse in an effort to read the results on her datapadd.

She nodded silently, absorbed in her work. Spock could not help but admire her concentration. He knew of her feelings for him, and yet she was still capable of working without distraction, even when he was so close that his body heat brushed at her skin.

'I shall begin preparations for the fourth,' he said. 'Your results look to be ultimately useful. We may, eventually, find a solution to this problem.'

'Eventually,' she murmured, her gaze finally breaking away from the figures on the padd. 'Eventually,' she said again, looking up at him at last, her blue eyes fixing on his. 'Will eventually be soon enough, for any of us?'

'For the majority of us,' Spock nodded calmly. It was true that the disease showed a much accelerated progression in Vulcan tissue samples, but the humans, at least, should be safe.

4. Tell Me – The Rolling Stones, High Tide and Green Grass (a continuation of previous)

'Mr Spock – ' she began, and he suddenly realised that the intense blue of her eyes was precisely so intense because of the tears that were in them.

'What is it, Nurse?' he asked, the formality of his words softened by his tone of voice.

'Mr Spock, you know that if we don't get the results that we want, then you're likely to – '

'To succumb to the disease,' Spock nodded, saying what she could not say. 'To succumb to mental and bodily deterioration – perhaps irreversible.'

'Mr Spock,' she said again. 'I – '

'What do you wish to say, Christine?' he asked in a low voice.

'I – love you, Spock,' she said slowly. 'That's all. You know that already. But – I can't stand the thought of losing you to this, even if you can never love me back…'

5. Introduction and Allegro for Strings, Op. 47 – English String Orchestra, Classic FM British Classics

It was as if he had never seen Nurse Christine Chapel before. He never *_had*_ seen her before – not like this. There she was, sitting upon the stage, in a long blue gown the colour of cornflowers, her golden hair loose and falling about her face, her sky-blue eyes focussed intently on the strings of the cello that she cradled between her thighs. Her feet, curiously, were bare.

The bow moved slowly in her hand. It struck Spock, against all logic, that it was a natural extension of her long, delicate fingers – that it had grown organically from her body.

He stood, silenced by fascination, as the music that she was producing flowed around him like the waters of a stream.

In all of his time on the ship, he had never known that Nurse Christine Chapel was adept at the cello. His own Vulcan lyre suddenly seemed clumsy – coarse even. So simple compared to this…

He took the glass that Kirk pressed into his hand without looking at it. It was expected to drink alcohol at functions such as this. So he would drink alcohol. And he would watch, with rapt amazement, as the professional, crisply spoken, scientifically-minded Head Nurse of the _Enterprise_ wove a web of magic about him with something as intangible as music.

Later, he found himself watching her as she left the stage. He found himself noticing that the dress she wore was scoop-backed, and that she obviously wore no supporting garments beneath it, because the pinkness of her skin was unfettered from the blue-jewelled necklace at her neck to the deep curve of the dress at the base of her spine.

He followed her out of the room like one entranced. Perhaps it was the effect of the alcohol that Kirk had continued to press on him. He did not know. He only knew that he was possessed of the giddy urge to *_make*_ something of this unusual fascination that had crept over him, and every tiny Vulcan devil that was sitting at his shoulder speaking of logic could go back to hell where it belonged.

She noticed the steps behind her, and turned.

'Oh, Mr Spock!' she said in surprise. The pleasure in her voice was obvious, and it warmed Spock to the centre of his being.

'Christine,' he said, taking a step towards her.

She almost retreated in surprise at his unprompted use of her first name – but the low, deep timbre of his voice kept her rooted to the spot.

'Christine, I wished to tell you – that you appear highly attractive tonight,' he said, mentally swatting those Vulcan devils back against the wall.

'Mr Spock – have – Mr Spock, I saw Captain Kirk pouring you a lot of Malovian vodka,' she faltered in confusion.

'Indeed he did,' Spock nodded. 'However, alcohol only relaxes the mind – it does not *_change*_ it.'

He took a step closer to her. Her lips parted with a tiny, wet noise, but she did not speak.

'It does not change it,' he said, and suddenly he knew precisely what those lips felt like under his, and how soft the bared expanse of her back was under his hand.

6. The Time Is Now – Moloko, Things To Make And Do

Fireworks had exploded in his mind. It was as if touching her tongue with his tongue had unleashed something that had only previously been loosened by the alcohol. It was as if pon farr had overcome him again, so soon. He was pressing himself upon her, feverish, urgent, trying desperately to consume as much of the taste and feel of her as was possible without causing injury. They stumbled across the corridor as one, and by some wondrous stroke of chance a door slipped open behind Christine's back, and they found themselves in one of the ship's tiny, two person meeting rooms. These places were reserved for intimate meetings – but they had never been intended for a meeting quite as intimate as this.

His hands were everywhere, almost by their own impulse. He was discovering that she did indeed wear no support beneath the dress. He was discovering that the dress unfastened oh so very easily, and that she had taken the chance that evening of wearing no underwear at all, lest the lines of it ruin the look of that very expensive, very exclusive evening gown.

That gown was now pooled about her on the floor, and she was utterly naked, every inch of her body alert with the stimulation of Spock's touch. She was pressed against one of the soft armchairs, gasping as his tongue stroked her body…

7. Maybe I'll Go – Lene Marlin, Playing My Game

…when suddenly some sense of rationality came back to her. She closed her eyes, unbelieving of what she was about to do.

'Mr Spock,' she said breathlessly, putting her hands up before her naked body. 'You're not yourself. You – *_can't*_ – be yourself. This – isn't in your nature.'

There was an animalistic growl in Spock's voice as he said, 'It is very *_definitely*_ in my nature tonight. The logic of that is undeniable.'

Yes, perhaps it was undeniable, she thought, as she realised that his clothes were peeling from his body, removed by both his hands and hers in the heat of lust, and she could see it there, his erection pointing towards her as if it was trying by its own will to come closer to her body.

'Mr Spock,' she murmured. 'Really – think about this. I should go. Really, I should go…'

'You are not moving,' Spock pointed out. 'You are not moving at all.'

'I – ' she faltered.

8. The First Man You Remember [From Aspects of Love] - Julian Lloyd Webber plays Andrew Lloyd Webber

It was as if she had never seen another man before this moment of her life. There he stood, half undressed, his skin flushed with blood, his eyes glinting with desire. The dark hair swirled on his chest, trailed down to circle his navel like a whirlpool, led so very inevitably to his pelvis, to the rearing length of his erection that was alive with hot, hot blood and tipped with moisture for the desire of her. She reached out a hand like one reaching to touch a wild animal, letting her fingertips touch and then stroke across the tight ridged skin of his scrotum, and he moaned, a low, animal sound…

9. Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues – Bob Dylan: Greatest Hits 2 (oh dear god, how do I continue this?)

They lay exhausted, sprawled across the carpet in the small room, naked skin against naked skin, stuck to each other with mingled sweat. The chairs and the table had been tumbled aside, and lay askew against the walls. She was back-down on the carpet, the surface of it itching her back as she lay there. Spock was still atop of her, still partially inside her, panting, his hands tangled in her hair, when the door opened…

'Oh – Jesus,' McCoy said in a horrified voice.

Spock barely reacted, but Christine stiffened as if electrified.

'Oh, Jesus,' McCoy repeated. 'Oh, God, he's going to kill Jim when he finds out…'

'Finds out *_what*_, Leonard?' Christine asked in a steely voice, inwardly amazed at the dignity she could muster in her voice in this situation.

'I – er – ' McCoy came into the room to allow the door to close, then turned resolutely to the wall, keeping his eyes on its blank greyness. 'That vodka the captain was giving Spock to drink. It – er – Well, we found out it induces – pon farr-like symptoms in Vulcans… Drunken pon farr…'

10. Horowitz's Zogekhts – Budowitz, The Rough Guide to Klezmer

Spock was very still for the space of thirty seconds. And then he said, darkly, something that sounded very much like, '*_Horowitz's Zogekhts*_.'

'I – er – beg your pardon, Spock?' the doctor asked, still looking away, sounding as if he did not ever want to speak again.

There was silence, then Christine offered tentatively, 'I – think – it was a Vulcan swearword, Doctor.'

'Er – I see,' McCoy said slowly. 'Well…' he said. 'Well – for now – I'm going to leave the two of you alone,' he said slowly. 'I'll – er – I'll throw some – er – necessaries through the door for you, and – I'll fix a lock on it. Perhaps you should have – '

'You don't say,' Christine said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

11. Thais: Meditation – Budapest Philharmonic Orchestra, Great Dream Classics.

Spock sat in the calm and quiet of his room trying his hardest to meditate. It was impossible. No matter how silent and warm and relaxing his surroundings were, the maelstrom in his head would not let him be still.

How… How could this have happened? Surely there would have been some…

No. He shook his head – and immediately regretted the movement as his head throbbed. This, evidently, was a hangover. He had never had a hangover in his life before this, and he intended to never have one again.

He moved to his small cooking alcove, and poured himself a glass of chilled water.

No. There was no way anyone could have known the effects of the Malovian vodka. Pon farr itself was barely known outside of Vulcan, and Vulcans so rarely drank alcohol that the chances of the effects of the drink being picked up were roughly two million, sixty eight thousand….

Spock sighed. The equation did not matter. What did matter was what he had done. No amount of meditation or logical reasoning could erase that. He had abused his position on the ship. He had abused Christine Chapel's feelings for him. He had been found, in _flagrante_, lying on the floor of one of the ship's public rooms with her by Dr McCoy, of all people…

12. Sexy Sadie – The Beatles, White Album

And the tremors of sexual desire were still thrilling through him. He had been a fool. He had been an uncontrolled, animalistic fool. He had exposed both himself and a woman he respected deeply to public view in such an intimate, private act…

No. At least he had only exposed them to McCoy, and the doctor, true to his word, had brought them precisely what they needed to make themselves presentable, and had not mentioned the matter since. Dr McCoy, at least, was capable of being discreet.

Of course, disciplinary action was a possibility. If it had not have been for the nurse he would have brought such disciplinary action against himself.

13. One Of Us Must Know – Bob Dylan, Greatest Hits

He was at a loss as to what to do. How could he uphold ship's discipline and ignore his own unforgivable breach? Jim, no doubt, would urge him to forget it. _We're all human_, he would say, forgetting that the very fact that Spock was _not_ human was what had caused this problem.

To whom could he turn? Hardly McCoy, although the doctor had insisted that he come for a medical check-up at some point in the next twenty-four hours to be certain that there were no further effects from the drink.

Christine. Miss Chapel. Perhaps – perhaps she would know how he could resolve this? But – how could he go to her, and look her directly in the eye, and ask her to help him? They had parted in utter silence, each respecting the other's perceived need for privacy, and he had not found it in himself to contact her since. But he would have to speak to her at some point. He would have to apologise, if nothing else, and hope that she would have the grace to forgive him.

Of course she would. He knew that. He was the only one who was utterly without grace at this moment. She had always been able to hold on to dignity, no matter what assailed her. Humans could be so very good at that…

14. Jesus and Mary – Martha Wainwright, I Know You're Married…

At that precise moment Nurse Christine Chapel felt that she had very little dignity to call on. She stood in her quarters, wearing no more than an oversized t-shirt, checking and folding her expensive evening gown with steady hands that felt anything but steady.

'Jesus, Mary and Joseph,' she muttered as she returned the dress to its pristine box. 'Jesus, Jesus, Jesus…'

She could still feel his hands all over her body, burning her with their touch. She could feel his lips, and the heat of his breath, and hear the little fevered noise of desire he had uttered as he had taken her. It had honestly been the most erotic experience of her entire life.

But that had been shattered. It had been shattered by the door opening, and by her friend and superior officer walking in on her, and by the bombshell that Spock was acting only because of a drug in his bloodstream, nothing else…

15. Matty Groves – Fairport Convention, The History of Fairport Convention

She needed a shower. She didn't know if it would help calm her mind, but it would certainly help to scrub away the sticky, matted traces of Spock's artificially induced lust. Some part of her wanted to cling to every trace that he had left on her body, but she knew that the best thing was to move on, to return her body at least to normal.

But oh, she could feel him. She could feel the echo of the girth of him, the power of him inside of her, the weight of him on top of her. She could smell the scents of him, rising up on the warmth of her own body, and feel the dried places where his tongue had tasted her, and where his sweat had lain upon her, and…

She sank back into a chair, hugging her arms around herself in a pathetic echo of post-coital closeness, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her forehead down upon them, and the scent of him assailed her even further. Oh, she was so alone…

The urge to cry suddenly overwhelmed her, and she gave in to it, sobbing as if she had just experienced a death. All these years, all those fantasies, and for it to all end in this… Perhaps she had experienced a death. How could she continue on this ship after what had happened? How could she be professional in her job?

And then the doorchime buzzed.


	3. Song Meme 3

1. Belated Forgiveness Plea – Donovan, Fairy Tale

'Jim, I did not mean it,' Spock said in a soft voice, coming a step closer in the half-light of Kirk's quarters. 'I was – angry.'

Kirk uttered a short, harsh laugh.

'You, Spock? Angry? You, the master of logic? Surely you're never angry. Surely you never let emotion get the better of you.'

Spock drew in a long, measured breath.

'Jim, I don't know what more I can say. I have asked for your forgiveness. What I said, I said in a moment of uncharacteristic emotion, and I should never have said it. Please. I am asking you. Forgive me.'

'Too late, Spock,' his captain muttered, turning away. 'Too late.'

2. One Last Love Song – The Beautiful South, Carry On Up The Charts

All was silence, except for the music. She was too weak to stand now. There was no dancing or embracing to be had. Spock sat at her bedside, his eyes fixed only on her face that was a ghost of its former self. She had asked for the music in the palest of whispers, and he had searched in the computer banks, and against all probability had found it. He remembered the first time he had heard the song, on an alien planet far away, when her eyes had sparkled with joy at a tune so close to her heart. He could not imagine that he would ever listen to it again after this night. Vulcans were not supposed to feel pain – but it did not mean that they didn't.

Her eyes fixed onto his, and her lips curved upwards in a shadow of a smile.

'I – will always – be with you,' she breathed.

Her hand moved spasmodically, and he took it, and her eyes closed.

3. Bless This House – Bryn Terfel, Simple Gifts

'Bless this house, and all who sail in her!'

There was a gay laugh in Kirk's voice as he smashed the beer bottle he held on the cornerstone of the house. Spock blinked in momentary confusion at the sudden violence.

'It's a custom, Spock,' Kirk explained, putting an arm about his shoulder. 'Don't worry. I'll clean up the glass later.'

'A – custom?' Spock asked.

'Well, an adaptation thereof. Bless this ship and all who sail in her.'

As they bent simultaneously to pick up a shard of glass that was sharper than they had imagined, red and green blood mingled together in the earth of their first home.

4. Pack Up Your Sorrows – Joan Baez, The Vanguard Years

'Ship on out, Jim,' the doctor said. 'That's all we can do. Forget all of this, and move on. There's plenty of people in the galaxy who can use our help.'

Kirk laughed mirthlessly.

'There were plenty of people on Zantia who could have used our help – but we were just too damn late.'

'Too damn late,' Kirk echoed. 'That's not good enough, Bones. This ship is the pride of the fleet. We don't _*do_* just too damn late.'

McCoy put a hand on his shoulder.

'This time – we do. We couldn't help it. We tried our best. And now all we can do is move on, and try better at the next place this plague strikes. We know it's gonna be somewhere, and soon.'

5. Impressed – Natalie Imbruglia, Left Of The Middle

'Well,' Amanda said slowly.

This was the first time she had seen her son in the full dress uniform of the First Officer of a starship. She had seen pictures of him in uniform, but in the starched, braided, silken tunic he looked about six inches taller, and she could not help the very human, very illogical emotion of pride.

'I'm impressed, Spock,' she said, smiling. 'You suit it, very well.'

Spock's eyebrow rose. She had first seen him do that when he was three years old, and no matter how many ensigns quailed under the look, she could not help but remember him raising his eyebrow as he asked her, in an endearingly childish way, whether she truly believed it logical that he eat a dinner of which he did not like the taste.

'The dress uniform is designed to create a good impression,' Spock said. 'But it is hardly functional. It is restrictive.'

'Well,' his mother smiled, straightening the IDIC pin on his chest. 'That may be so, but humans are notoriously illogical in their fashion design. Spock, I'm proud of you,' she said sincerely. 'Sarek is too. We were worried about what this conference may bring, but you have cultivated nothing but pride, in both of us.'

6. Painful – Catatonia, Way Beyond Blue

Spock looked down towards his feet again. They seemed a long way away both physically and mentally. The girder that had fallen on his lower legs was cutting off all blood supply, and he knew it would not be long before any hope of retaining them would fade away.

The pain, at least, was fading minute by minute, as his limbs gave up the fight for life. There was a small relief in that, although he did not wish to exchange his ability to walk for a cessation of pain.

He rested his head back on the jumble of concrete on which he lay, and closed his eyes. There was very little he could do but wait.

7. Possession – Nicholas Hooper, Harry Potter And The Order of the Phoenix

It had been fifty days, so far. Spock was owned. That was undeniable. Each limb, each inch of his skin, each fluid ounce of his blood was absolutely owned by the man that he must call Master. Barely even his thoughts were allowed to himself. He certainly did not get a chance to think, since the majority of his time was taken up by soulless, grinding, back-breaking work, and what slender amount of time was left over was spent in dreamless, exhausted slumber. Between stumbling obediently from task to task, the chains on his limbs rattling as he moved, and being forced to hold still as draconian punishments were laid upon him for the smallest of transgressions, Spock was forced to accept that, in every sense of the word, he was possessed by his Master.

8. Cry! Cry! Cry! – Johnny Cash, Walking the Line: The Legendary Sun Recordings

Cold tears slipped down his cheeks. He could not admit to himself that he was crying. It was simply that exhaustion, malnutrition and continual ill-treatment had worn him to the point where, biologically, he could no longer hold back tears. If he moved his hand to wipe the liquid away he would be reminded of the links of metal fettering him, so he stayed motionless on the scattering of straw that was his bed, and let the tears find their own paths along the slant of his nose, across his cheeks, down onto his lips, and then onto the cold floor.

9. Bring Me Li'l Water Silvy – The Wailin' Jennys, Live at the Mauch Chunk Opera House

They had been lost in this desert for days upon end. Even bred to the desert as he was, Spock was beginning to feel the heat and the lack of water, playing cruel games with his mind. He had stinted on his own rations, choosing to let the others share what was left considering his superior capability. But finally he was recognising that he had perhaps made an error. He had lost touch of what had been happening. He only knew that now he was lying, somehow, in some kind of makeshift shade that was barring the blistering sun from his skin, and that a woman in dust-strewn blue clothing with her silver hair dishevelled about her face was bending towards him with what must be a mirage – a flask that seemed to be full of water.

His lips moved.

'Christine?' he whispered, in a cracked voice. 'Water?'

'Water,' she smiled. Her voice sounded full of it. 'The captain made it. He found the spring. We're going to be all right.'

10. New Amsterdam – Elvis Costello, The Very Best of Elvis Costello

'What a name for the place,' McCoy muttered, looking about himself. 'New Amsterdam. There must be more hills in this one part of the city than in the whole of Holland!'

'Human motivations for naming places are often odd,' Spock pointed out in a level voice.

'Besides, Bones,' Kirk grinned. 'I hear they grow the best tulips this side of Deneva!'

'Tulips,' McCoy muttered. 'Hell, if you tried to put a canal in this place it'd turn into a waterfall! Tulips don't make Amsterdam, you know.'


End file.
